My Brother's Ashes (Because It Is)
by Miss221B
Summary: Dean doesn't mind the pain, because it's Sam. Character death, weechesters


_ This… physically hurt me to write. It's one of the most depressing things I think I've ever written, so I'm going to go ahead and do as I usually do and apologize for it. _

_ The lyrics are from Run by Snow Patrol. I strongly suggest you listen to it, preferably while reading the story, if at all possible. It's a beautiful and strong song, and I think it fits Sam and Dean perfectly. _

_**I'll sing it one last time to for you**_

_** Then we really have to go**_

Dean held onto Sam. It's a suitable beginning to their last story. The fire burned around them, screams echoing and ash falling. And Dean? He didn't blink, didn't wince. He held onto Sam, who held right back.

They didn't understand how they had been found. Bobby, John, Ellen, and all the other hunters Sam and Dean knew. They had all been gathered at Bobby's old house, running from something. The brother's didn't know what. John had refused to tell them. It didn't really matter now though. Whatever it was, it had them.

When the crashing had started, Dean had grabbed Sam and retreated farther into the house; closer to the back door. He heard his father cry out, then Bobby. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he kept on carrying his brother. Sam was too young to understand the importance of quiet. He sobbed and screamed with every loud noise. Dean shushed him, but it was for moot. He was glad that the sound of the house falling masked the sound of his brother's distresses.

"Dean," Sam whimpered, looking up at him, tear tracks running down his face, caked with ash.

"It's okay Sammy," he whispered. He would make it okay. Sam would get out; he knew that for sure.

_**You've been the only thing that's right**_

_** In all I've done**_

Of course it was Sam. Dean hadn't turned to Jo or Ash, his childhood friends. He had grabbed Sam, and he had run. And he knew he would never regret it. Because it always had to be Sam. That was Dean's life summed up in one sentence. It was so simple and short, but carried so much weight. But Dean bore it with a brave and determined face. Sam mattered more than he, or anything else.

Sam was the only light in Dean's life, and for that he owed him greatly. So he kept pulling, even as he choked on the ash and cut his flesh on the falling splinters and sparks. Because it was Sam.

_**And I can barely look at you**_

_**But every single time I do**_

_**I know we'll make it anywhere**_

_**Away from here**_

He kicked the door open, pausing only a moment to savor the sweet, fresh air. Dean knelt down, Sam gathered in his arms, and gripped his baby brother's shoulders.

"Sammy?"

The young child coughed slightly, and opened his eyes.

"De?"

"I'm here Sammy." Another large crack came from the house, and Dean winced.

"We gotta go. Stay awake for me, okay? I need to see those big eyes."

It was all Sam could do to nod before Dean readjusted his grip and began to run.

_**Louder, louder, **_

_** And we'll run for our lives**_

_** I can hardly speak I understand**_

No matter how far they ran, the sound of their lives crashing down and family dying was still louder than the branches under Dean's feet. He focused on his breath, harsh and panting, and Sam's, small and quick.

That had always helped him to sleep; listening to his brother's breathing. It was reassuring, knowing that Sam was with him and _living_.

He hadn't had time to grab his shoes, but hardly noticed the pain in his feet. When he did, he began talking to Sam to distract himself.

"Do you remember that time we camped out here? And I just wanted to go to sleep but you made me stay up with you until we could see all the stars? You named off so many constellations I lost count."

Sam didn't respond, he just hiccupped and nodded in Dean's arms.

"I don't think I ever told you how proud I was. That was an awful lot of smart stuff to memorize. It was pretty impressive."

There was another resounding crash, and that inhuman screech. But it was closer now.

_They're coming_, Dean thought, panicked. He had hoped that he and Sam could have slipped away unnoticed, but it was obviously not to be.

_**And to think I might not see those eyes**_

_**Makes it so hard not to cry**_

_**And as we say our long goodbyes**_

_**I nearly do**_

Dean stopped, knowing that, at that time, running was pointless.

"Dean?" Sam looked up, his small face sad and confused. Dean took a deep breath, then moved to set his brother down on his feet. Sam's confusion and despair increased, unhappy that he had lost some of his physical contact with his brother.

The sound came again, ever closer. The trees around them trembled, the leaves quivering as though they knew what was coming.

"You gotta run Sammy," Dean's voice was rough and horse, and not just because of the ash.

"What? Without you? No Dean," Sam tugged on his shirt, moving his arms to wrap around his brother again, "come on we have to keep going."

Dean shook Sam's hands off his shoulders and brought them up to his lips. Sam trembled as Dean kissed the soft skin reverently.

"Dean? Please, Dean?"

"Sam, listen to me, you have to go. Now. Town is only a few miles away, you'll be safe there, you can lose whatever this is."

"_No," _Sam yanked his hands out of Dean's. "We go together."

The ground echoed again. Dean shook for the first time that night. Tears we only barely kept in check. He hated himself. _This is the only way,_ he reminded himself.

"Sam, I can't run carrying you. If I try, it'll catch me and rip me apart."

Sam's already broken eye's widened even more.

"Well, I can run! We can run together, Dean _please," _Sam pleaded, pulling on Dean's sleeve.

"No, Sammy I'm sorry, but you can't catch up to me. You're too slow." Sam visibly flinched. "Sam, _go._ You have to run. I'm gonna run in the other direction."

"_No," _more tears spilled over Sam's face.

_**Have heart, my dear**_

_** We're bound to be afraid**_

_** Even if it's just for a few days**_

_** Making up for all this mess**_

The force of the next quake nearly knocked him over.

"**GO," **Dean yelled, pushing Sam away as hard as he could. It would surely leave a bruise.

_I deserve to die, if I don't tonight,_ he thought to himself. _Sammy, please, please just go. You have to be safe. This is the only way to give you that. _

Betrayal echoed in Sam's features, and he took a step back.

"_**Goddamn it Sam fucking run!**_"

"You'll come find me?" Sam sobbed.

Dean's voice softened, "I promise," another tremble, "_GO."_

That was it. Sam turned and ran, sobbing hard enough that it was a wonder he was even standing straight at all. Dean took a deep breath and stood straight and tense.

The trembling came to an awful crescendo, filling his ears, before crashing. It was suddenly silent, but he knew he wasn't alone. He could feel its breath all around him, watching him. He clutched at the knife hanging from his belt.

_**Light up **_

_** Light up**_

_** As if you have a choice**_

Because it was Sam. He held the knife with sure and worthy hands because it was Sam he was protecting. He tried his best not to cry out as terrible claws and powerful teeth ripped at his flesh. He was brave, because it was Sam.

And when he fell, when all he could see was blood red and glimmering, spiteful eyes leering down at him, he smiled.

Because he died protecting Sam.

_**Even if you cannot hear my voice**_

_** I'll be right beside you dear**_

Sam figures that Dean would smile at the sight of his children playing around the grave. He can nearly see it; his hands ruffling their hair and his face as he gives his amused grin. Even after all these years, Sam can still remember it.

He figures that Dean would be proud of his little brother. Sam had made something of himself; he had a wife and two beautiful children, Deana and Mary. He imagines Dean sitting down to dinner with them sometimes, what he would say about the new curtains or Jessica's marvelous pie.

Sometimes it hurts when Sam thinks about Dean. He feels as though someone is cutting out his heart every time he remembers running away from him that night. The idea that he will someday meet his brother again somewhere helps, but it still aches. But it doesn't change Sam's resolve to never forget any piece of his brother. And he never does. He visits the grave every month, and then, when he retires, every week.

He finds himself in bed one night, and is hit by the sudden realization that he will not wake up the next morning. He kisses Jessica goodnight, and falls asleep with a smile on his face, with no fear or remorse at all, because it's Dean.


End file.
